


The Casablancas Effect

by CubbieGirl1723, Marshmellow Bobcat (MellowBobcat)



Category: Veronica Mars (Movie 2014), Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Honeymoon, Loosely based on a true story, Smut, Smut From Sedona, Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-10 15:54:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20854373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CubbieGirl1723/pseuds/CubbieGirl1723, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MellowBobcat/pseuds/Marshmellow%20Bobcat
Summary: Logan and Veronica plan for happily ever after, and get Dick.





	The Casablancas Effect

**LOGAN**

Logan packs his gym bag, and considers where to place the surprise addition. He wonders if she’ll recognize it for what it is, understand the significance. The little black box should help. 

Carefully positioning the ring box under a folded white T-shirt and black athletic shorts, he studies the results, then adds a baseball cap to the top of the pile for good measure. 

He considers leaving the bag slightly open, but it’s not like he has to  _ tempt _ her to snoop. Zipping it closed, he pushes it casually to the middle of their bed. 

“Veronica!” He calls down the hallway of their apartment, that somehow manages to be tinier than the apartment she grew up in. “I’m headed out to meet Wallace.” 

* * *

**VERONICA**

Veronica can’t decide how to play this. Pretend like she didn’t see it at all? Bring it up like it’s no big deal, later? 

_ Oh, by the way, I was doing laundry, and guess what I found? _

Confront Logan immediately when he gets home? Yell? Squeal? Wait and see if he has something special planned in the next few days?

Logan’s keys rattle in the lock and butterflies take flight in her stomach.  _ Who am I kidding?  _ There’s no way she can wait. 

She places the square black box on the coffee table and sits on the couch, tucking her hands underneath her legs to keep from nervously twining them together. 

“Hey, babe. Wallace says hi. I totally—”

He spies the ring box and abruptly stops speaking. A look of uncertainty crosses his features before he squares his shoulders. Dropping his jacket on the floor, he moves to sit on the coffee table in front of her. Tugging one of her hands out from underneath her, he runs his thumb over her fingers but doesn’t speak.

The ring sits between them, looming large for such a small object.

_ You hijacked his proposal. That probably means you need to speak first. _

She takes a deep breath.

“I, um, found something.”

_ Went snooping, you mean _ , _ Veronica. _

Logan raises his eyebrows. “Did you open it?”

She nods. It’s gorgeous. Two thin bands, one silver and one gold, entwined in a nautical knot. Absolutely perfect. Symbolic, not flashy. Even better than what she would have picked for herself.

He squeezes her hand. 

“I know you used to say you never wanted to get married...but I’ve been thinking lately that maybe you don’t feel that way anymore? I mean,” he gives a self-deprecating laugh, “There are a lot of things I said in high school that I hope you don’t still hold against me.”

Veronica’s mind races as she gazes into Logan’s eyes. 

_ Is this what I want? _

_ Marriage. _

The word used to make her nauseous. But Logan….

Logan is all she’s wanted for a very long time. Yeah, there are a lot of marriages that don’t work out. A lot of people who make it look like a bad idea. But Logan….

He’s not perfect, not by a long shot. He leaves the kitchen a mess when he cooks. He sings show tunes in the shower. Off-key. He takes up all the space in the bathroom when he’s brushing his teeth. He watches bad Hallmark movies. 

But she loves him more than she ever thought possible and there’s no one else for her, she’s sure of that.

So she shrugs and clears her throat, aiming for a nonchalant tone. 

“I’ve changed since then. So have you. It wouldn’t be the worst.”

A slow smile spreads across Logan’s face and the anxiety recedes from his eyes. 

“Not the worst, huh? That’s what every guy dreams of hearing.”

“I don’t hear you asking anything, Echolls.”

Shoving the coffee table backwards, Logan slides to the floor and kneels in front of her. She freezes, suddenly overwhelmed. 

And Logan...damn him, his expression turns serious and his eyes are shining. He’s going to get all sappy and emotional, she can just tell. 

So Veronica plants herself on the floor in front of him, palms pressed to his chest. 

“Yes. The answer is yes.” She brushes her lips over his, feather light. He surprises her by deepening the kiss, fisting his hands in her hair and clinging to her tightly.

They finally pull apart, panting. “Are you sure? You really wanna get married?”

“Yeah, why not?” She pulls him in for another kiss, sliding her hands under his shirt, fingers tracing his abs. “We should probably practice consummating things now.”

“Not so fast.” He grabs her hands and laughs. “We have a wedding to plan.”

“Oh, god, you’re kidding, right?”

“Mars, if you’re actually—finally—agreeing to marry me, I’m taking advantage of the moment and having a conversation.” Logan pulls her into his lap, wedges her head under his chin. His heart races under her cheek. “So. What are you thinking? Wedding on the beach? At sunset?”

Veronica snorts. “Not likely.”

“Military wedding?” Logan gasps playfully. “You want to walk under a canopy of swords, don’t you?”

“As if.” She taps her finger on her chin. “Although, you could wear your dress uniform, if you wanted.”

“You like that, huh?”

_ Damn right I do _ . 

But she just shrugs. He doesn’t need to know how hot he looks in it. His ego is big enough.

“Destination wedding?” he offers.

“If the destination is the Balboa County Courthouse, then yes.”

Logan shifts so he can see her face. “The courthouse? I saw your wedding planning binder in high school, Veronica, don’t forget.”

“I believe we’ve already established that we’ve both changed since high school. The courthouse will be more than sufficient.”

“Can we tell people?” 

“People?” she huffs. “Who do you want to tell?”

“Um, your dad? Dick, Mac, Wallace, some of my Navy buddies.”

Sighing, Veronica pulls out of his embrace. “Fine. But let’s be clear—I’m not wearing a white dress.”

“Wear whatever you want, Bobcat. Just pick a date and promise me you’ll be there.”

* * *

**LOGAN**

As they depart the beachfront alter, officially a married couple, Veronica’s white dress ruffles in the warm breeze, practically glowing in the sunset. The dull roar of nearby waves mixes with the cheers of the small crowd of well wishers, and Logan suppresses a smirk. 

Two weeks ago they asked if they could use Dick’s backyard—also known as the beach—for a small wedding reception. Not only did their friend agree, he suggested they have the ceremony there as well. Then things snowballed. 

Five minutes before the ceremony, Dick had knocked into Veronica, spilling red wine all over her black and white dress. Before she could murder him, Dick had dragged her over to a guest room, assuring her that, “Courtney left some stuff here. I’m sure something will work.” 

Logan’s not sure Dick even knows a Courtney, let alone a Courtney who leaves 11 white dresses, in Veronica’s size, hanging in the closet. But Veronica doesn’t comment, and everyone ignores her glare. And her growl when she spots the Veronica-sized beaded, white sandals next to the dresses. 

To top it off, the officiant had gotten lost on her way to the wedding, and by the time Dick guided her to the house, apologizing for giving her the wrong directions in the first place, the sun was poised to set.

Last week when Dick had asked, Veronica requested “tables, chairs, and maybe some flowers or something” for the reception. Now, as they make their way to their table, It occurs to Logan that Dick’s “Sure thing, Ronnie,” came a little too easy to be trusted. 

Logan ducks under the gauzy organza curtains draped over the cedar pergola, and helps Veronica into her chair. Mac slides in next to her and Logan kisses Veronica’s cheek, leaving them Pony’s feeding schedule. Probably unnecessary since Mac has babysat Pony before, but their honeymoon is an entire week and Veronica frets. 

Using the soft glow from the candles scattered across the sand, Logan locates Dick gesturing wildly to the bartender behind the portable tiki bar. 

Wandering over, Logan plucks a champagne glass from the display, and leans against the bar facing Dick. 

“So.” He gestures around with his glass, “What’s all this?”

Dick chugs the rest of his champagne, then grins. “You like it, man?” 

“It’s nice. Not, ah, exactly what we talked about.” 

Dick shrugs. “Ronnie said she doesn’t care about this shit, but you do.” 

Logan blinks. That’s… that’s kind of sweet. He clears his throat, takes a sip of his drink. And immediately pulls it back to squint at the glass. 

There’s an orchid in it. And it’s not just champagne.

“Specialty drink.” Dick beams. “Good, right? It’s champagne and elderflower liqueur.”

Logan tries to pinpoint a response. Something in between  _ thanks for caring  _ and  _ my wife is going to kill you.  _

“Hey.” Dick claps Logan’s shoulder, gives it a friendly squeeze. “You’re welcome, man.” And saunters off. 

Logan shakes his head, and scans the crowd, gaze locking on Veronica. She’s forgone the specialty drink in favor of a tumbler of amber liquid. 

Logan finishes his drink, grabs another, and makes his way back to his bride. Might as well make wedding memories.

By the time they get home, Veronica is passed out in the car, lightly snoring. As gently as he can manage, Logan scoops her up and carries his sleeping wife over the threshold. 

* * *

**VERONICA **

“Yes, Logan, I’m sure it’s lovely. I will praise it sufficiently after I go to the bathroom!” 

Veronica sprints through the—admittedly gorgeous—living room of their Vista Suite at the L’Auberge de Sedona resort and slams the bathroom door shut behind her. She doesn’t care how pouty it makes him, she just spent seven hours in the car.

After washing her hands, and eyeing both the double shower and garden tub for later, she emerges into the living room area. Comfortable couches and chairs, grouped around a fireplace, look inviting but she’s ready to stretch her legs a bit. 

She spies a king-sized bed swathed in white linens through one doorway and a kitchenette through the other. There’s a platter of chocolate covered strawberries on the coffee table and champagne chilling in a bucket. Both are tempting.  _ Maybe just a little snack _ . 

A note accompanying the treats reads,  _ Have a good Fucking time. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Dick.  _ Veronica rolls her eyes. 

Before she can snag a strawberry, Logan’s arms wrap around her, lifting her off the ground.

“What are you doing?” she shrieks playfully. 

“You didn’t let me carry you over the threshold.” He tickles her sides as payback and she giggles. It had been hard to imagine anything could make Logan more romantic and sappy than he already is, but it turns out that planning a wedding had done it.

He carries her outside, only to bring her back through the doorway.

“Really? Was that necessary?”

“Yep.” Setting her down, he kisses her softly on the lips. “You know I love wedding traditions.”

“All too well,” Veronica mutters, rolling her eyes.

“Do you by any chance have a garter for me to remove?”

She glances down at her white tank top and turquoise shorts. “Not hidden under here, Mister.”

“Ah, well, a man can dream.”

“Speaking of dreams,” Veronica taps her chin. “Did I dream up our compromise?”

“To what are you referring, Mrs—” She can tell he was about to call her Mrs. Echolls but he quickly corrects himself. “Ah, my dear?”

“You got your wedding on the beach, instead of the courthouse. In exchange, I agreed to a small, modest honeymoon.”

Logan glances around. “We are in Sedona, Arizona. Right?”

“Correct.”

“And we drove here. In a car.”

“Yes, seven hours. I remember that part.”

“It’s not a private beach on a deserted island. And there was no first class flight. I think I’m holding up my end of the bargain admirably.” He shrugs, unrepentant. 

“I’m pretty sure this is an expensive, luxury cottage, Logan.”

“Yeah, cottage. That’s modest by definition.” He slides his hands around her waist and pulls her close. “Now how about we make this marriage official?”

Veronica snorts and turns out of his embrace. “Pretty sure the hundreds of times we’ve already had sex retroactively makes it official, buddy. Besides, I want to sightsee.”

“I don’t think it works that way.” He tugs her over to a window. A gorgeous panoramic view of Sedona’s famous red rock formations stretch before them and her breath catches. “Look. Sights.”

Standing behind her, he inclines his head and nibbles on her neck, sending a jolt of pleasure through her.

“Mmm. That feels good. But I was thinking we’d go on a walk, stretch our muscles a little after sitting in the car all day. Work up to that. There’s no hurry.”

“Oh, I’m all for stretching your muscles.” His hands slide across her belly, moving steadily north. “We have a little bit of time before our reservations.” 

“But,” she tries to mount one last futile protest, “I’ve never been to Sedona. I thought we’d—”

“And I’ve never had sex with my wife,” Logan growls, giving her neck a gentle bite. But he pulls away from her and begins rummaging through his duffle bag, perched on the arm of the sofa.

“What are you looking for?” 

The tactic change surprises her and now she’s curious. 

Logan holds up a blue bottle. “How about a compromise?”

She grabs it from him, reading the label. “Euphoria Sensual Massage Oil? Did you buy—”

“No, no, it was a gift!”

She doesn’t want to know who bought them that.

“Awkward. I think you misunderstood. I—”

“No, I get it, babe. I just thought I’d offer to give you a massage.” He lifts his shoulders in an adorable shrug. “I know weddings aren’t really your thing and you did it anyway and you’re probably stiff after the car ride. I figure I owe you one.”

His eyes shine, full of love, and Veronica’s heart melts a little.  _ God, you’re such a goner for him. _

Which isn’t the worst, she supposes, considering she just admitted to the world that she’s going to love him forever. She glances at the ring on her finger, rubs her thumb over the two strands of the knot. At what point will it feel natural on her hand?

“Yeah, okay,” she says aloud, with a small smile. “That sounds nice.”

His wide grin threatens to split his face. “Awesome. Let me get everything all set up while you slip into something more comfortable.”

She could get undressed in front of him, they’ve been living together for years, and it’s not like she’s a blushing virgin. But something about their honeymoon makes it suddenly different. 

She grabs her suitcase and heads to the bathroom, shedding her clothes and putting on the silky black peignoir that Mac insisted she buy from La Perla. She takes a second to wash her hands and face and generally freshen up. As the grime from the car swirls down the sink, Veronica takes a deep breath, finally relaxing a bit. She opens the door to greet her husband. 

Logan has created a mini-spa in their bedroom. Candles are lit, soothing music plays from his phone, and flower petals are scattered over the bed. 

“Rose petals, Logan? Really?”

“I thought we should have flowers somewhere,” he mumbles. “C’mere, lay down.” 

He gestures grandly at the bed and she complies, rose petals and all. Her robe slips down, revealing her back.

Logan rubs the massage oil onto his palms. The almond and lavender scent fills the room. He brushes his hands over her back, feather light, making her nerve endings tingle. Using long, full-palmed strokes, he moves his fingers up and down her back and arms. He squeezes her shoulders and neck, releasing tension with every breath, until Veronica feels boneless, so relaxed and content.

Then his fingers move lower, massaging her thighs and ass. Her relaxation quickly turns to arousal. Wetness gushes between her legs at his touch. He kneads her calves, rubs her feet with just the right pressure so it doesn’t tickle. His hands come back up her legs, brushing her inner thighs and she shivers in pleasure. He plays her body like an instrument, always has, and knows just what she needs. Dragging his fingers up her back, he caresses the sides of her breasts.

“Turn over,” Logan rasps, and she gladly flips onto her back so he can lavish some attention to her front.

Just as he’s about to take her nipple into his mouth, she registers a rancid smell. Is there a skunk outside their room? 

Then her skin starts burning.

She stiffens. Logan must notice because he pauses, eyes locking on hers.

“Veronica? You okay?”

He sits up, sniffing the air suspiciously as she shakes her head.

“No! Is that...warming massage oil?”

He smells his palms and grabs the blue bottle off the nightstand, inspecting it. 

“It doesn’t say it is.”

Veronica hops up. The smell is worse and every inch of her body feels like it’s on fire.

“Something is seriously wrong here.” Panic and discomfort make her voice thin. 

“The smell...its like Pony ate spoiled meat and threw up.”

“Thanks for that image!” 

She hustles to the bathroom, Logan close behind. Cranking on the taps in the shower, she hops in as he washes his hands in the sink. 

“Where did you get the world’s most disgusting massage oil, Logan?” Veronica asks over the noise of the shower, helping herself to the body wash dispensers and lathering up. 

“Dick,” he mutters. 

“Should have known.”

“But, hey,” he opens the glass door and peeks in, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “I’d be happy to get in there and help you scrub it off.”

“My skin’s still burning, Logan. I think the mood is gone.”

“But…” 

Not even his pouty lower lip sways her.  _ Everything hurts, dammit. _

“Next time you should think of this before accepting a gift from Dick. Maybe we can rally later but for now, you’re on your own.”

She slams the glass door in his face. 

* * *

**LOGAN**

While she scrubs off a layer of skin, Logan pops a few strawberries, blows out the candles and considers canceling the surprise “Dining Experience Under the Stars” he arranged before their arrival. According to the brochure it’s supposed to be  _ romantic _ , but whereas before she would have been amused by his whimsy, he’s not certain that Veronica of the burning skin and slamming shower doors will be as indulgent.

_ But _ she does appreciate a good meal. And this one features the very best in gourmet cuisine and wine. She likes wine. Bolstered, he changes for dinner.

Once he’s ready for the evening, he moves towards the door, but hesitates on the threshold. Spinning on his heel, he re-enters the room and decisively scoops up all rose petals, tossing them in the garbage. Something tells him she won’t enjoy the reminder. He polishes off the rest of the strawberries and takes the plate with him on his way to the sitting room.

Dropping the platter on a side table, Logan heads to the laptop he set up in the sitting room. A knock interrupts his mission and he detours to answer. He can add “cheerfully throttle Dick” to his day planner later.

Gesturing the white-gloved waiter and his cart towards the balcony, Logan follows, leaning against the doorframe to observe as the man readies their special evening. 

The waiter snaps a crisp white cloth over the table and Logan grins in appreciation at the drama. 

The sun is just beginning to dip below the horizon, golds and oranges infuse the sky. There’s nary a breeze to ruffle Logan’s perfectly pressed linen dress shirt, which bodes well for the candles the waiter is artfully arranging around an intriguing centerpiece of green and purple desert flowers. 

“I thought we were going out to dinner.”

Logan turns, and reels at the sight of her. Veronica’s beauty has always been effortless, but now with her hair damp, face makeup free, and his ring on her left hand, she’s breathtaking. He swears being next to her still makes his head reel.

She steps closer, and the stark black of her outfit casts the bright pink of her skin into sharp relief. 

He winces.  _ Fucking, Dick.  _

“Logan?” 

Shaking his head, he reaches out his hand to her, drawing her to his side. The ease with which she settles against him says he’s forgiven. He slides an arm around her and lets out a breath, kissing her temple. 

“Romantic dinner for two.” 

“For you, Madame. Sir.” The waiter intones, holding out a chair for Veronica. “With compliments from the chef, Rainbow Trout Tartar.” 

The offering looks nice, but Logan's stomach rolls. His shellfish allergy has given him a general aversion to seafood. 

Squeezing his hand, Veronica winks up at him. “Don’t worry. I got this.” 

Logan smiles as they take their seats. There’s a lot to be said for marrying your best friend. 

They keep the conversation light while the waiter hovers over their every need, but as the champagne bottle empties, Veronica’s gaze darkens, rarely straying from his. Her voice deepens, her fingertip tease the rim of her glass with a deliberation that makes him harden. The air stretches thin, heady and taunt. 

Logan feels the heaviness of anticipation like a rock in his gut, bordering on uncomfortable. Just one more course. He can make it through one more course. Then her tongue darts out to lick a drop of champagne from her lips and he’s lost. 

Without taking his eyes off her, he gestures to the waiter. 

“Leave the dessert and the bottle.”

The waiter mummers a good night, and disappears from view. 

Logan and Veronica’s eyes remain locked until the catch of the door signals they’re alone. Without hesitation, Veronica rises and skirts the table. He moves his chair out and stands to join her but she pushes him back down and sinks gracefully between his legs. He immediately swells fully, the clench in his belly intensifies.

She runs her hands up his inseam, massaging him through the fabric. Sweat breaks out over his skin, and his mouth goes dry. He wipes a clammy hand on his pant leg and cups her check. 

She gently bites the pad of his thumb, then sucks it into her mouth, swirling her tongue over it, and he sees stars. She releases his finger with an audible pop, and reaches for his belt buckle. 

His body is on fire, hands trembling, mouth tingling.

He moans as she lowers his zipper. His stomach lurches. 

His eyes widen. This...isn’t good. 

He pulls back abruptly, and Veronica’s eyes widen.

He shoots up, tipping his chair, and jumps over her frozen form. 

He makes it to the bathroom just in time. 

When his stomach is empty, he curls his long body into a ball, and rests his cheek on the cool, tiled floor. 

“Did you eat all of these?” Veronica stares down at him with a frown of concern.

He cranes his neck and spots the strawberry plate in her hands, then flops his head back down with a whimper.

_ Fucking, Dick. _

_ —— _

The next morning, Logan wakes with a start. He’s relieved to find that he feels almost human again, and a shower will go a long way in getting him to a hundred percent. 

He glances down at a sleeping Veronica and sighs. It hasn’t exactly been a dream honeymoon. She spent all night keeping him hydrated, mopping his brow with a cool cloth, and stroking his hair until he finally collapsed in a miserable heap around 3am. He doesn't even know when she went to sleep. 

He pads to the bathroom to shower, careful not to wake her. When he returns, Veronica is still dead to the world and Logan slips out of the room to make coffee and order up some breakfast. 

He finds the coffee easily enough, and in his search for milk and sugar realizes the kitchen is fully stocked. She loves when he cooks for her. Okay, she loves when  _ anyone _ cooks for her, but hey, it’s the thought that counts. 

Turning the kitchen radio to early 2000 pop hits, he hums to himself as he loads up the coffee machine. Spying a silver gift box next to the coffee, he opens it to find two plain black mugs, one with a black handle and one with a pink, nestled in a sea of tissue paper. As far as hotel swag is concerned, he would have preferred a bottle of Dom Perignon, but the “his and hers” mugs are kind of nice. 

Logan quickly rinses them and sets them down on the counter, then digs out the ingredients for French Toast and bacon. He enjoys cooking, something about the combination of creativity and rote appeals to him. 

Dancing along Carrie Underwood, he gives silent thanks no girl ever keyed his baby as he plates the food. He hides some bacon under his french toast so Veronica can’t get to it and just manages to shove a fourth piece under a cinnamon-sugar coated triangle when Veronica enters the room. 

“Breakfast?” She throws a look around, and a smile pulls at her lips. “Being married has its perks, huh?” 

Her voice has that sleepy, rough quality that never fails to turn him on.

“Breakfast for the missus.” He pours and doctors their coffees. 

Leaning against the counter, he holds her mug out to her, but Instead of taking it, she walks over and steps between his legs, circling her arms around his waist. 

He kisses her forehead and she creeps her fingers under his shirt, tickling her way up his spine. Goosebumps cross his flesh at the feel of her, and he gives a hum of appreciation for her attentions. She rises up to brush her lips against his jaw. is eyes slide closed, reveling in the feel of her mouth on his skin, and his hand tightens on the handle of the coffee mug. 

Without warning, the handle breaks off and scalding hot liquid pours down her back as the mug crashes to the floor. 

She gasps and yelps. Jerks out of his arms.

It happens in slow motion but he’s powerless to stop it. He doesn’t even have time to reach for her as she stumbles back and slips, landing sideways on the linoleum, her head centimeters from the offending mug. 

Veronica lays there, prone, and after a beat of shocked silence he crouches down next to her. 

“Baby, are you okay?”

“No! I’m bruised and burnt and…” Her eyes narrow on the cup next to her head, “Where’d you get that?”

Picking it up, Logan and examines the writing that must have appeared from the heat of the coffee:  **I love everything about you but I must say that your dick is a real bonus. **

Dread washes over him. 

Logan jumps to his feet to read his own mug. In large letters it declares:  **Every woman deserves a man who loves to eat. ** In a small font under that, it adds:  **her out. **

So, probably not a gift from the hotel. 

_ Shit.  _

As Veronica struggles to sit up he digs through the tissue paper from the gift box and finds a note card. 

He skims it, then glances down at Veronica, eyes wide. 

She scans his features and recognition shines in her eyes as they narrow. 

“Fucking, Dick.”

———

“Veronica, you’re overreacting.” Logan insists as Veronica whirls around the bedroom, tossing items into their suitcase.  _ She _ doesn’t have anything to pack because she lives out of a travel bag like a heathen, so it’s  _ his _ stuff that’s bearing the brunt of her ire.

“We’re leaving.” She blows past him, and throws open the closet doors, plucking his clothes off the hangers, haphazardly folding them before she sends them sailing through the air.

He grimaces as the Tom Ford falls limply into the bag. “Where are we going?”

“I don’t care. Anywhere that Dick can’t find us.” She tugs off her sleep shirt and throws it on top of his clothes. 

Logan eyes the swell of her breasts in the simple cotton sports bra. 

“Hey, Veronica…”

“Put those eyebrows down.” She digs in the suitcase then pulls on a T-shirt, shimmies into a plaid miniskirt. “We’re getting out of here before Dick somehow sets the place on fire.” 

She stomps to the bathroom and starts shoving his toiletries into his travel caddy. 

Probably not a good time to mention the box labeled  **Wax Play For Beginners ** that Dick slipped into the front pocket of their suitcase. Veronica is not in the mood to appreciate the irony.

_ Fucking, Dick.  _

Resigned, Logan pulls out his phone to find alternate accommodations. They were planning a trip to the Grand Canyon today, might as well stay there. He filters out anything less than 5 stars, and his eyes light upon Sanctuary Camelback Resort.  _ Sanctuary.  _ Sounds perfect. 

* * *

**VERONICA**

“Logan…” Veronica cranes her head back and forth, gazing out the window before eyeing him suspiciously. “You said you found us a villa.”

“Yeah.” He puts the car into park, stopping in the driveway of a massive house nestled into the side of the Camelback mountain. “It’s the Villa Ventana. You can see that right here.” 

He holds up his phone, showing her the name on the screen, and then hops out of the car. He consults the screen again as he enters the access code on the keypad. At least he refrains from carrying her over the threshold this time. 

Mouth dropping open, Veronica steps inside and takes in the house. “This is not a villa. This is...this is…”

The gigantic living room is white and modern, full of clean lines and panoramic windows showcasing the amazing view of the mountains. She’s pretty sure their entire apartment would fit in this room. Five times over.

“What?” 

Snatching his phone from him, she reads, “The crown jewel on the Camelback...four thousand square feet!” Her eyes fly to his, appalled at the expense. “Logan! It’s just the two of us. What do we need with three bedrooms? And how much did this cost?”

He shrugs. “It’s our honeymoon. And I guarantee Dick has never heard of this place.” 

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he wanders over to inspect the patio, visible through the wall of windows in the living room. There’s an outdoor seating area around a long fire pit, plus reclining deck chairs, an infinity pool, and a hot tub.

She wants to stay mad at him but, really, it’s not his fault everything has gone horribly wrong so far. Forcing him to find them a new place to stay at the last minute was, admittedly, irrational, and this villa is nothing short of amazing. 

_ Get a grip, Veronica _ . 

Taking a deep breath, she wraps her arms around his waist and gazes out at the mountain vista. 

“Sorry I flipped out. I don’t believe in bad luck but…”

Logan settles his arm across her shoulders. “But if you did, our marriage is not off to a great start.”

She snorts. “A lot of things have gone wrong, you have to admit. No regrets?”

He drops a kiss on the top of her head. “None.”

Veronica clears her throat, determined to keep her voice steady. 

“Thanks for the new accommodations. Fresh start. When you think about it,” she tickles her fingers over his sides, changing topics, “four thousand square feet is a good challenge.”

“A challenge?” Logan looks down at her, intrigued. “Tell me more.”

“Well, that’s a lot of surface area to cover. To christen.” She bobs her eyebrows suggestively at him, gratified by his laugh. 

“I like the way you think, Bobcat.” His eyes twinkle. “You know, since we’ve been married we haven't actually—“

“I know.” Veronica nods vigorously. “Should we remedy that?”

“Definitely.” He tips her chin up, kissing her softly. 

Before he can deepen the kiss, she pulls away. “So what sounds good? Hot tub? Pool? Shower?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Veronica, but...maybe just the bed? I don’t want marriage to make us boring but all of those things sound potentially...dangerous.”

Laughing, she kisses his shoulder. “I thought we were a couple of adrenaline junkies.”

“And there’s plenty of time this week for all those escapades. But this first time...just a bed.”

“First time?” She scoffs, looking into his eyes. “We’ve had sex before, Logan. Lots of it. I don’t think you need to turn this into a big deal.”

“Is that your way of telling me you didn’t buy fancy underwear?”

“Did you?” She raises a questioning brow before her face breaks into a grin. 

“Are you wearing fancy new underwear right now?” He nuzzles her neck, then pulls open the collar of her shirt to peer at her bra. “Hmmm. Can’t tell. I need a closer look.”

Veronica playfully swats his hands away as he tries to peel off her shirt. 

“Fine, fine! I do have a little wedding present for you. Mac made me go shopping and, well, I think you’ll like it.”

He holds his hands up in a position of prayer. “Thank you, Mac.”

“Meet me in the bedroom in five minutes.”

————

When Veronica steps out of the bathroom, Logan is standing in front of the wall of windows, clad only in a pair of grey jersey pants. He gazes out at the mountain view. It takes her breath away and he spins at her gasp.

“Wow,” he breathes. 

“Yeah, it’s gorgeous.” She gestures at the windows.

“No, I meant you.” He takes a step closer to her, bridging the distance between them as his eyes rake over her.

“Are you fan?”

She smooths her hand down the sheer black lace bra and panty set she’s donned. 

_ Lingerie is generally overrated and uncomfortable but the look in his eyes might make me change my mind _ .

“You should only wear this,” he proclaims, skimming his palms over her shoulders and slipping off the bra straps.

“Well, that would get awkward at the office,” she quips. 

“Maybe.” Logan trails his fingertips down her arms. “I guess you can just put it on when you get home.” 

His fingers move lower, trace over the black lace garter around her upper thigh.

“What’s this? I thought you were opposed to the garter?” He drops to his knees to inspect it further, sending a shiver of desire through her body.

“I’m opposed to the garter  _ toss _ ,” she clarifies, voice wavering as he places kisses on her flesh through the flat lace rose circling her leg. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“You could never.” Standing swiftly, he sweeps her into his arms and lays her down on the low bed, covered in white linens. “In fact, this far exceeds any garter fantasies I’ve entertained.” 

Starting at her toes, he places soft kisses on her feet, her calves, the sensitive skin on the back of her knee, and up her inner thigh until his mouth reaches her garter. Grabbing the material between his teeth, he slowly removes it from her leg, keeping his gaze locked on hers the entire time. 

“I’m glad you approve.” She’s already throbbing with desire. His hands graze her legs as he moves back up her body and over her underwear. 

“This,” his fingers work her up through the lace, “is so fucking sexy.”

Then he pushes the fabric out of his way and dives in, enthusiastically pressing his lips to her slick folds. Moaning, she grabs fistfulls of hair and holds his head in place as his tongue darts for a taste, sending waves of pleasure through her. 

_ The underwear was an excellent choice.  _

Between the wedding planning and their disaster of a honeymoon so far, it feels like it’s been weeks since they’ve made love. Rationally, Veronica knows it’s probably only been a few days but she’s not having any luck explaining this logic to her currently raging hormones. It doesn’t take much—his tongue on her sensitive bundle of nerves, his long finger stroking inside her— before everything builds and then narrows to a peak of ecstasy. Her vision whites out as her orgasm crests, rolling through her body. 

Logan rides it out with her, panting, as she tries to catch her breath.

“So far, married sex is excellent.”

He chuckles, the sound vibrating against her skin. Crooking her finger at him, she mumbles, “C’mere.”

Logan obliges, stretching up along her body. She curves her hand along his jaw and presses a hungry kiss to his lips. Deepening the kiss, she runs her tongue along the seam of his lips until they part. She tastes herself and it’s a ridiculously hot turn-on. She twines her tongue around his, delving into explore the softness of his mouth. 

How many times has she kissed Logan? A thousand? More? Yet she can never get enough. She didn’t doubt her decision to marry him but it’s not until this moment that it hits her—she will never get tired of kissing him. She loves him with her whole heart and she will never stop. The surety settles in her bones.

He breaks off the kiss, breathless, and touches his forehead to hers, staring into her eyes. A tiny smile grows into a delighted smirk and— he knows. The asshole. Emotion roils through her and he knows. This realization of love blindsides her and Logan has the audacity to give her his cockiest grin. 

Because that’s the other thing about Logan. He’s the only person who really, truly knows her. She’s grown in her transparency with Mac and Wallace over the years but Logan is the only person who knows all her secrets. Only Logan. 

Logan, who sees her and knows her and loves her anyway. Beyond loving her in spite of her flaws, sometimes she thinks he loves her because of them. She was surprised when she said yes to his proposal but more than that, she was surprised that he asked. Surprised that someone who knows as much about her as anyone can, would want to marry her. Her love for him floods her, threatens to overwhelm her—

And he laughs in her face. 

Then he kisses her, because he knows she can’t handle anything more , and she growls into his mouth. Pushing against his shoulders, she rolls them over so that she’s on top. 

_ That’s better. _

His hardness nestles between her thighs and she rubs along him, enjoying the whimper that escapes his throat as she proves that she knows him, too. His hands cup her breasts, thumbing over her nipples, and she pushes her tongue into his mouth again.

Panting, he breaks off the kiss and slides his lips along her jawline, down her neck, scraping his teeth lightly over her sensitive skin. 

“So, do you wanna take this off or…?”

Gratified, she notes the strain in his voice. He palms her nipple through the sheer lace of her bra. 

“Nah.” Sitting up, she grabs his hands and holds them above his head. “I think I’m gonna do whatever I want to you for a little bit.”

He shrugs as she nibbles his neck, bites his shoulder, then moves lower and swirls her tongue around his flat nipple. She trails a path down his chest with her tongue until she gets to the waistband of his pants and tugs them lower. Not wearing any underwear, he springs free and she takes him in her mouth.

Logan gasps, jerking forward and digs his long fingers into her hair. With a pop, she releases him.

“Uh-uh-uh. Put your hands back where I had them.”

“Veronica,” he groans. “I can’t. I won’t last.”

Keeping her gaze locked on his, she slides her lips around him again slowly until he throws his head back against the mattress. 

“Oh, god,” he moans.

“You can just call me Veronica.” She gives him a feral grin. “Or...your wife.”

His body relaxes once she stops sucking on him and he manages a smile, locking his fingers together behind his head. “Wife. That has an awfully nice ring to it.”

“I never thought I’d say this, but I agree.” She slides off her underwear and then moves up his bod. Settling on top of him again, she envelopes him in her wet heat in one swift movement. 

Logan grunts as she rocks against him, thrusting slowly. She trails her fingertips over his hands and grabs them, placing them on her hips. Taking this as his cue, he grips her tightly and pushes up into her, quickening the pace. 

Rolling her hips, she takes him deep, loving the fullness of him inside her. He shifts their position slightly, sitting up, and tugs at the clasp of her bra. 

“Veronica, I think it’s stuck. ” He grinds out the words, his tone rough and tight. If she weren’t so turned on, she’d laugh. Just one more mishap in what’s turning out to be a long series of unfortunate events. At least this isn’t Dick’s fault. As it is, she just shrugs. 

“Guess you get your wish and I’m wearing it forever. Whatever you do, don’t stop.”

With a pop, he rips the stitches and the lacy fabric falls off, exposing her breasts.

“Hey! That was expensive.”

“I’ll buy you more. In every color. Anything you want.”

He stops speaking, burying his face in her chest and mouthing her breast. The angle is perfect and his lips sucking hard on her nipple adds to the sensations, combining to send her over the edge. 

Her orgasm builds, spiraling through her core outward to her toes and the roots of her hair. Her muscles spasm and contract and she loses control, lets the wave of pleasure surge through her. 

Only Logan gets her to relax her tight hold on the reigns of herself and let go like this. No one else has ever compared. 

Crying out, she locks her eyes on his as her orgasm pushes him over, too. He thrusts erratically into her once, twice, three more times, hard, before stilling. His face reveals everything he’s feeling—love, lust, trust, wonder. 

“I love you,” she whispers as she curls up on his chest, spent, and he’s silent for a beat. She thinks he’s going to Han Solo her and tell her that he knows. She tenses, prepares for the jackass reaction, but he drops a kiss to her head, smooths his hand down her back and makes her feel utterly cherished and protected as he murmurs, “I love you, too.”

His breathing evens out, she thinks he’s almost asleep when he murmurs, “I don’t think we have to worry about that bad luck anymore. Curse is lifted. Care to join me in the hot tub?”

“I’ve never heard of anyone screwing bad luck away,” she chuckles, voice scratchy. Her limbs are still heavy, suffused with satisfaction. 

“Well, a Dick problem deserves a dick solution. Whaddaya say?”

“If that’s the solution, we should probably do it again. Just to be sure the curse is gone.”

“Anything you say, wife.”

Veronica likes the sound of that.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Some of these mishaps are based on true events...but you'll never know which ones!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [(Cover) The Casablancas Effect](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21094898) by [CoverMeMellow (MellowBobcat)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MellowBobcat/pseuds/CoverMeMellow)


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